


Eighty-Fucking-Seven

by Dragon_in_Disguise



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drinking, Drunk Mickey Milkovich, Episode: Shameless Hall of Shame: Ian & Mickey: Daddy Issues, F-bombs everywhere, Happy Ending, Hurt Mickey Milkovich, Ian is stoopid, Jealous Mickey Milkovich, Like, Lots of Cursing, M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Past Cheating, Past Relationship(s), Season/Series 11, Spoilers, but he fixes it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:09:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29983344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_in_Disguise/pseuds/Dragon_in_Disguise
Summary: Maybe that’s why he’s so bothered by Ian’s words. The fact Ian’s heart isn’t just for him to have made him angry. Why should he share Ian’s love? He’s the one who married the bastard.Mickey chews on his inner cheek, shaking his head in disbelief. He has eighty-seven percent of Ian’s heart. Who the fuck else has the rest?
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 6
Kudos: 137





	Eighty-Fucking-Seven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [All_the_gayz_are_my_otps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_the_gayz_are_my_otps/gifts).



> OH BOY THIS
> 
> The amount of anger I felt in my bones when Ian said 87% in HOS is unbelievable 
> 
> As the prompt said (can read in the End Notes), this definitely stuck with Mickey and might've lead to a bigger fight in the actual episode if they didn't get side-tracked with other topics
> 
> I did it differently tho and created a better ending because good lord they fought a lot this season and I feel like we all need a break (tho the recent episode seven was fucking hilarious bless their souls)

Eighty-seven.

That number won’t stop repeating in his head. 

Eighty-fucking-seven.

Mickey scowls bitterly at himself in the mirror, gripping the edges of the sink tightly to keep himself from throwing his fist forward and shattering the glass. Debbie will have his ass if he breaks anything in this house. 

It’s hard though with how many times that stupid fucking number keeps playing in his head to keep himself from breaking everything around him. He’s seething, blood practically boiling as he hears over and over again how he doesn’t have his own husband’s whole heart. 

Taking a deep breath, Mickey makes his way out of the bathroom back to his room, thankful no one else is home right now. He paces around for a moment, running his hands through his hair, down his face, squeezing his eyes shut with a grumble. He doesn’t get it. His heart - his entire being is for Ian, until death do them part. That’s why he married the fucker in the first place. He’s been in love with him for years, his first real love. Mickey was scared of it at first, of course, but he still kept coming back to Ian no matter how much he tried to ignore those feelings. He can’t imagine loving anyone else as much as he loves Ian. 

Maybe that’s why he’s so bothered by Ian’s words. The fact Ian’s heart isn’t just for him to have made him angry. Why should he share Ian’s love? He’s the one who married the bastard.

Eighty-seven.

Mickey chews on his inner cheek, shaking his head in disbelief. He has eighty-seven percent of Ian’s heart. Who the fuck else has the rest?

Shuffling through their things, he tugs out a sketchbook he sometimes doodles in and opens up to a blank page, grabbing a pen and writing down that damned number. He writes his own name under it and circles it, writing down thirteen a few inches away. He thinks for a moment, trying to remember all of Ian’s exes he hardly gave two shits about just a day ago. 

_Kash… Ned… Caleb?_

Mickey thinks and nods curtly, writing down Caleb’s name. He thinks for a few more moments before he clicks his tongue and writes down Trevor’s name. Four exes divided up in that small percentage of Ian’s heart. Mickey glowers at the names. 

Who was the most important out of the four? Definitely not the old fucks considering Ian was just a kid at the time. At least he hopes so. Going with that, he stares down at the other two names and tries to remember the conversation they had about those two. Caleb was a police- no, a firefighter. Right. Trevor was a trans guy who worked for child pro- no, that’s not right. Right, it was an LGBT shelter for teens. 

Trevor’s relationship was longer and, as Mickey recalls, pretty chill. Caleb was all Northside trash so Mickey tags Trevor as the most important out of the four, putting a five by his name. 

Eight left.

He stamps a four by Caleb’s name then a two by Ned and Kash’s names. From his understanding, this seems the most accurate. 

The tightness in his chest settles a bit at seeing the numbers sorted out. Comparing Trevor’s five to his eighty-seven makes him feel slightly better. Besides, it’s only four people. Not too bad. Mickey sighs shakily, rubbing his temple as he continues to stare at the numbers. He’d still very much prefer to have Ian’s heart to himself completely. 

The more he stares, the more he thinks. Did… did Ian just mean his exes?

Mickey sits up sharply, heart thudding. Ian said that a little bit of his heart was given to everyone he’s been with. _Everyone?_ Does he literally mean everyone?

Mickey taps the edge of his pen against the paper before he jots down “army kid.” He grimaces as he writes “guy from porno.” He puts a one next to the two names and crosses out Trevor and Caleb’s numbers, writing a four next to Trevor and a three next to Caleb. Now there are six people.

Mickey’s throat grows uncomfortably tight. What about the other men?

The men Ian cheated on him with?

How many were there? 

Mickey feels his breathing become faster. He never asked Ian cause he’s no saint - he cheated. When they became official and Ian ran off with his Bipolar mother, Mickey ended up cheating - first with a woman he hardly got hard for, then with a random twink he found in the park. 

Ian never asked so he never did. 

When Ian was manic, his sexual desires were heightened beyond Mickey’s ability to keep up. The many nights he was driven to almost passing out as soon as he came because Ian just kept going at him, and yet he was still ready to go when Mickey couldn’t. He knows Ian cheated - doesn’t know when or with who, but he knows now. What he doesn’t know is how many times. 

He isn’t mad at Ian about that anymore - it’s in the past. He was unmedicated and honestly gave no fucks back then. Mickey can’t be mad right now about that. What he is mad about is why he has to give that thirteen percent to some random fuckers Ian did a quickie with. 

God, how many? How many people is he sharing this stupid fucker’s heart with?

Mickey really is sensitive. 

A crushing realization comes over Mickey. The club.

The club Ian worked at.

Did… did they count?

If so, then the numbers don’t add up. Unless each fucker has a decimal of Ian’s heart, then it doesn’t work. Either Ian didn’t mean everyone or the number Mickey has is wrong. 

Mickey rips the paper from the book, crumbles it, and chucks it across the room. 

“Uncle Ian!” Franny shouts as she runs up to Ian as he enters the home, grinning and holding her arms up. “Carry me!”

“Hey, kiddo,” Ian grins, dropping his bag to lift up his niece. 

She smiles widely and wiggles in his arms happily. “Is uncle Mickey with you?”

“No, why?” Ian asks, carrying her across the living room back to the kitchen where Debbie is making dinner, bickering with Carl.

“I wanted to tell him your room is a mess, but he wasn’t here,” she tells him. 

Ian pauses, looking at her curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Seems like either someone robbed you specifically or your husband destroyed your bedroom,” Debbie says bluntly, shaking her head. “Must’ve pissed him off.”

Ian frowns and sets Franny down, ruffling her hair before he makes his way upstairs. He groans in annoyance when he steps into his room, finding everything in disarray. Clothes scattered, the little knick-knacks they have tipped over and on the floor. The mattress is hanging off the bed spring, blankets and pillows scattered. He looks down when he hears something crack under his foot, looking down and finding a cracked picture frame of him and Mickey during their wedding. His heart twists and he feels anger start to boil, shaking his head in complete disbelief as he picks it up, kicks the mattress back into place, and sits down. 

He wonders what the hell set Mickey off this time. 

Usually, they fight about it. Never has Ian come home to their room in this condition. 

Tugging off his vest, Ian starts picking up the knick-knacks scattered on the floor, setting them back on the dresser. When he bends back down to grab the last one, he sees a crumpled piece of paper that he’s never seen before. He wonders if it’s one of Mickey’s drawings, grabbing it and unfurling it. He almost disregards it when he spots Trevor’s name, then Caleb’s and Ned’s. He frowns and sits back down, smoothing out the paper and scanning it. 

His heart drops. 

A bunch of numbers, scratched out and rewritten are scattered along the page next to the names of his exes, next to the labels of people he’s fucked. A circled “cheated” stands out with a question mark under it. What catches his attention though is the scratched out “eighty-seven: Mickey” at the top of the page, replaced with a question mark next to Mickey’s name. 

Ian sits back, running a hand through his hair. Holy shit, he forgot about that. He thought Mickey did too. Now that he thinks about it, they didn’t exactly work this out. They didn’t talk about it when they came back home. Mickey is sensitive - he must’ve been rolling this over in his head the last few days. He’s a bit of a math nerd - he literally only failed math because he skipped class practically every day - so he probably wondered who was split between the thirteen percent he wrote down. 

But as Ian reads through the page, he can see why there are so many scribbles. Mickey kept thinking and thinking, adding on more and more. He started with his exes, then the random fucks Mickey knew about, then… then the men Ian cheated on him with. 

Ian said _everyone._

God, he’s such a fucking idiot. 

Of course he was exaggerating. Ian doesn’t give any fucks about the one-time flings he had when he was manic. He hardly remembers them. Yeah, sure, part of his heart is still attached to his exes, and as he looks over Mickey’s first calculations, it’s pretty accurate. Something bitter fills his gut as he stares at the numbers though, realizing what exactly the problem is. 

Mickey has always been a little… possessive? When he fell in love with Ian, he fell hard. Ian knows that, and he still regrets how everything went down in the past, but that’s in the past. They’re married now. 

Ian groans, tossing the paper aside and covering his face. Fuck. 

It’s all in the past - that has to include his exes. 

Ian has the best thing in the world, being Mickey. He has all of Mickey’s love and heart, he knows that. It’s completely unfair for him to say Mickey has _part_ of his heart. 

He is such a fucking asshole. 

He tugs out his phone and calls Mickey, but it goes to voicemail after a few rings. He ponders for a moment and dials Sandy’s number, but it also goes to voicemail. He grumbles and finally calls Kev, tapping his foot impatiently as he waits. “Hey, Ian!”

“Kev, hey,” Ian sighs in relief. “Hey, is Mickey there?”

“Yeah, he is,” Kev answers, lowering his voice. “He’s gone through a shitton of drinks. You two fight again?”

“Not exactly,” Ian sighs, ignoring the rest of the mess and heading out. “Just make sure he doesn’t leave. I’m coming to get him.”

“Alright, can do,” Kev says before Ian hangs up. 

Ian jogs most of the way there, half-regretting it given it’s a rather warm day. The Alibi is cool inside, making him sigh in bliss when he finally makes it inside. He spots his husband quickly, finding him sitting at the end of the bar with his head in his arms next to an empty bottle of whiskey. Jeez… 

“Hey,” Ian greets softly as he sits down next to him, moving the bottle aside. Mickey turns his head, eyes half-open and cheek squished against his arm, lips pulled into an awkward but unhappy pout. Ian rubs his shoulder. “Have enough to drink there?”

Mickey grunts, eyes flicking away to stare at his chest instead. “‘S not fair…” 

Ian hums, ducking his head a bit to try and meet his eyes. “What’s not?”

“Why do I have to share your heart with a bunch of randos I don’t even know?” Mickey mumbles, still avoiding his eyes. His voice is slurring a bit, showing he is indeed drunk. “‘S not like you married them…” 

Ian trails his hand up to cup the back of his neck, massaging gently. “Mick…” 

“I just want you…” Mickey murmurs, finally looking up at him. “You’re it for me, man…” 

Ian feels guilt gnaw at him, knowing what Mickey wants to ask but isn’t. He leans down and kisses his head, keeping his voice low just for him to hear. “You’re it for me, Mick.”

Mickey lifts his head, blinking slowly. “I am?”

“Mhm,” Ian smiles, squeezing the back of his neck. “I don’t want anyone else, Mick. Promise.” Mickey seems to brighten up at that, making Ian chuckle. He slides off of his stool and pulls Mickey to do the same. “C’mon, let’s go back home. You’ve had enough to drink.”

“‘Kay,” Mickey slurs, leaning into him for support. Ian wraps his arm around him and leads him out.

Mickey groans when he stirs away, head pounding away. He really should’ve thought more about ordering a whole damn bottle of whiskey. He ponders throwing up but the need to goes away the longer he lays there. 

He lifts his head and blinks blearily, glancing around the room. It’s back in decent order unlike how he left it, making him realize Ian must’ve found it and fixed it up. He feels guilty for a moment before he remembers why he destroyed it, grumbling to himself and burying his face back into his pillow. 

But then a hand wraps around his arm and flips him onto his back. Mickey yelps in surprise, wrestling with Ian as he climbs on top of him and grabs his hands. Mickey huffs when Ian pins his hands down, glaring up at him. “The fuck, Gallagher?”

“You mean Milkovich, Gallagher?” Ian sneers. 

Mickey growls and struggles under him again, ignoring his headache. “Get off!”

“I found your paper, Mick,” Ian says, making Mickey still. Ian’s gaze softens, rubbing his thumbs against Mickey’s wrists. “Mick, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You said it yourself that your heart goes to everyone you’ve been with,” Mickey says, voice sharp. He won’t meet his eyes. “I just… needed to figure out-”

“No, Mick,” Ian murmurs, leaning down and kissing his cheek. Mickey makes a face. “Look, maybe I still care about my exes in a way, but not the way I care about you. I married you, didn’t I?” Mickey shifts and looks up at him, gaze guarded. Ian smiles, releasing one hand to cup his face, brushing his thumb over his lips. “You can have all of my heart, okay?”

Mickey’s eyes flicker, lips parting under his touch. “Really?”

“Yeah. Promise.”

“I don’t have to share it with the cheating firefighter or trans twink?”

Ian snorts, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.”

“Not even dead Ned?”

“Oh my God, never say that again, and no, you don’t,” Ian promises, leaning down and kissing Mickey’s smirk. His hand trails up to card through Mickey’s hair, tilting his head back to bare his neck. Mickey hums lowly when Ian traces his lips down the hollow of his neck, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m all yours, Mick.”

“Damn right you are,” Mickey groans, twisting his wrist from Ian’s grip so he can interlock their hands instead, his free hand reaching up to tangle in Ian’s hair. 

They’re interrupted by their door sliding open and a tiny body colliding into them, almost knocking Ian off of Mickey. “Uncle Mickey!” Franny squeals, jumping up and down next to them on the bed. “Uncle Ian! Play!”

Ian and Mickey chuckle, Ian rolling off of Mickey so he can sit up. “Wanna play? Go grab the guns.”

Franny squeals in excitement and jumps off the bed, running out of the room to go grab her toy guns Mickey got for her birthday. Mickey grins and turns to Ian, humming when Ian leans forward and kisses him sweetly. “I love you,” Ian murmurs against his lips.

Mickey smiles, knocking their foreheads together gently. “Love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested by All_the_gayz_are_my_otps "So I feel like Ian saying a number, like 87%, would really stick with a math whiz like Mickey. He'd probably like analyze percentages and try and figure out how much of Ians heart is given depending on what he does with the different guys. Ian ends up cheating and Mick really can only think about how much of Ians heart he lost. How he can't get it back. Idk! I just want a story that addresses the 87 percent because that seems messed up to me! Like no one is talking about it and I think it's important! I don't care if you follow my prompt for it!"
> 
> SO I couldn't bring myself to have Ian cheat because they are married and all and I wouldn't be able to write a happy ending if Ian cheated, so instead, I had Mickey think about how many guys Ian cheated with and how that affected his number. I hope you liked how I did it!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are very much appreciated! If you have a prompt, please comment down below!


End file.
